Earth's Last Apocalypse
by Gareli
Summary: Earth faces its last apocalypse and not even the Slayer can stop it. Set 30 years after ATS's NFA...
1. Default Chapter

**_I got the idea for this story when I was posting on a messageboard. Wouldn't it be interesting if I presented a story made up entirely of various characters' POV? Read on... _**

**_The usual disclaimers apply._**

Rome, 2034...

A short and petite woman with blonde hair that falls in gentle waves to her shoulder stands in the doctor's office, looking out the window at the city. She is in her 50s and in good shape for her age. She looks just like her mother. A wry smile plays on her lips as she faintly recalls her past, her Slayer past.

"Signora Summers? I'm afraid I have some bad news for you..."

Buffy spins around, startled. "I didn't hear you come in." The bespectacled doctor lets out a dry chuckle. He is tall, perhaps over 6-foot tall and heavyset. His hair is graying, surprising considering the fact that he is only in his 30s. "I'm quite sorry about that. Now, about your biopsy..." Buffy slowly nods, preparing herself. "I'm afraid you have a malignant brain tumor."

"I see."

"I'm sorry."

Buffy sighs heavily, suddenly aging ten years ahead. She pinches the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes.

"What can I do?"

"From what it looks, I'm afraid there's nothing you can do. The tumor is inoperable."

"How long?"

"3 to 6 months, at least."

Buffy pushes through the hospital's doors, waving her hand at the same time. A taxicab comes to a stop, its driver noticing a pretty woman wanting his attention. Buffy smiles and leans in to give the driver the directions to her home. Within seconds, the cab speeds away, to its destination.

So this is it. A brain tumor. I guess not even Slayers are immune to human diseases. Buffy stares out the cab's window, faintly hearing the driver's annoying rambling. The driver finally gives up on trying to form a conversation with his customer and turns on the radio to a certain station. Buffy lets her hands lay limp in her lap, continuing to stare out the window. Suddenly, she sees something...strange in the air above. She bends over, trying to get a closer look at it. The strange object looks like a sun but that's impossible because Earth only has one sun. "...latest breaking news...a meteor...size of Earth..." the radio drones on. It only takes Buffy a few seconds before she registers what was just announced. Unfortunately, so did the driver as proved by his sudden braking of the cab and panicking.

"A meteor! Get out, get out, Signora!"

He didn't have to Buffy twice. Buffy wanted to get out, anyway and this was her chance. Buffy steps out of the cab and the cab speeds away, its tires squealing against the road. Buffy didn't care. She just wants to walk home, and she did.

**_Well, what do you think? Should I continue or not?_**


	2. Giles and Willow

**The usual disclaimers apply. The characters belong to ME, and not to me. Which is quite horrendous because if I owned those characters, I'd do...wonderful things with them.**

_Britain, 2034..._

Soft rustling of papers can be heard in the office. The room is filled with antiquated books and yellowed documents. There is no metallic object in the room; wood is the main look. Modern technology would not dare to exist in this room.

"Bloody hell!" a voice growls, obviously quite upset over something. Rupert Giles stands up from underneath his desk, brushing the dust off his tweed pants. "Where is that blasted pen..." The white-haired British man reaches up and takes off his glasses, cleaning its lenses with his handkrief. He is in his 80s, quite fit and healthy for his age. However, his face is lined, especially around his eyes, as if he has seen many things a person should not have seen. Giles glances around, frowning. He sighs, putting his glasses back on. _Giles, you know better than to worry about a pen. You're just trying to distract yourself from what is really important...the meteor._

Giles suddenly frowns, his eyebrows raised. He raises a finger to his chin, rubbing it as he walks over to the bookshelf standing to his left. Giles scans the books, searching for a certain title. "Ah!" Giles reaches for the certain book, pulling it off the shelf. The book's cover is made of leather, its tannish and wrinkled appearance giving away its age. Giles flips through the book's yellowed pages, glancing through. "Meteors...meteors...usually summoned by certain sorcerers...insane people...blast!" Giles slams the book close, disappointed. "Nothing, there are no records of meteors this size being summoned to be found." He sighs heavily as he puts the book back into its home. _Can this really be...the end? A mere natural disaster? Oh dear... I suppose everything has to come to an end, eventually. But still..._

Worry grips Giles' body, his hands shaking. _Damn it! I feel so powerless, unable to stop an...apocalypse. Not even the Slayer can stop it. Earth's last apocalypse... _Giles suddenly doubles over, clutching his shoulder. He groans, pain overtaking his body. Within seconds, Giles collapses to the floor, unconscious, his head hitting the wooden floor with a heavy thud.

Willow Rosenberg enters Giles' house, closing the door behind her. "Giles? I'm here..." Silence answers her. Worried, she takes a timid step forward, glancing around. Suddenly, something crashes on the floor upstairs. "Giles?!" Willow exclaims, fear in her voice. She jogs over to the staircase and practically bounds over the steps.

Willow holds up her hand at Giles' office's door, willing it to open. The door flies open, as if opened by magic, which is quite true. Willow steps inside, trying to sense Giles' presence with her mind. A weak groan coming from behind the wooden desk close to the back of the office alerts Willow of Giles' whereabouts. Willow walks around the desk, falling to Giles' side. She places a hand on his forehead, stroking it gently. "Giles...?"

Giles' eyelids flutter open at the sound of his former prodigy's voice. "Willow...hospital..." he forces out, each word exhausting him. Something wet hits his cheek. Willow is crying. Giles smiles gently. Willow always was sensitive, even after all those years, she remains the same Willow he knows, albeit older and more mature now. Willow nods quickly, her silvery-white hair falling into her eyes. Giles studies Willow's features for a moment. After so many years of using magickal, Willow's body has begun to show the magickals' effects. She is painfully thin; a person would think her as anorexic. Yet, she has an appetite of a normal person. Her skin is pale, a ghostly white colour, and stretched tight over her facial bone structure. She has a startling cheekbone definition, the kind those supermodels would be terribly jealous of. Willow's eyes, irises of many colours, swirling with all sorts of colours, are the last things Giles sees before his mind slips into yet another unconsciousness.

**_Again, criticism and praise, especially praise, are greatly appreciated._**


End file.
